


painting black the white canvas of tomorrow

by sejutaejo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Jon Snow, Dark Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Demon!Jon, F/M, Hehehe, and utterly flustered!dany, angel!Dany, but could be start of world building, but dont misunderstand though this isnt the most flustered my dany can get, but i couldnt resist smug!jon, honestly it could work the other way around as well, i dont even know, i wrote this in between writing three essays up the next day, literary writing to save a soul, this isnt even flustered lmao what am i saying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sejutaejo/pseuds/sejutaejo
Summary: Targaryen angels are the harbingers of peace, the doves after war. Jon Snow is a demon of chaos and ignites the sparks of conflict. A conversation of the Targaryen daughter and the blackest Snow as they meet in the twilight between strife and new harmony.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	painting black the white canvas of tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> it's 4am when i decided to publish this so forgive the tags. and the rest.

Rough fingers reach for the shine of lustrous gold buried under clammy mud. He pulls the object to reveal a dirtied crown stained with blood and grime and blades of grass caking its smooth polished surface. He brings the band of gold to closely inspect it when a speck in a soft glow of white falls in front of his eyes. With his other hand, he gently catches the drifting feather, its silky texture caressing his skin with warmth. 

He hears her footsteps before he does her voice, “We meet in the culmination of another war.” His grey eyes lift towards the picture of white standing steps away from him, her pale dress falling down in willowy waves softly dancing with the wind and her wide snowy wings tucked behind her back. Complete with their signature platinum hair, the Targaryen angel was an image of stark purity, everything about her pale save for the dashing purple of her eyes, so vibrant amidst the lack of color. It made him almost hesitant to touch her, fearful to stain her cleanliness with the dirt of who he was, his tall daunting dark horns suddenly feeling heavy atop his head.

“The king was a foolish man.” He replies instead, his hand showing the golden crown to the angel. “He could not see his enemies where they truly dwelled, within himself. I longed to see him gone.” Jon tosses the muddy crown towards his companion. The crown’s fall softens before it floats above Daenerys’s open palms.

“I imagine it must have been quite easy for you to taunt him into a hopeless war, seeing as that it was only recently since you last made your presence known, Chaos.” She scoffs, her eyes narrowing at Jon. Above her hands, the crown slowly dissolves into a shower of golden light, her hands encompassing the remaining sparks until they have fully disappeared. “This crown shall be no more. Its people will wear another symbol of governance, marking their new monarchy, new leadership, their new peace.”

Jon leans against one side, his hand finding his hip and a smirk curving on his lips. “You call me ‘Chaos’ and look down on the bloodshed I concur, but it is through my discord your beloved peace is made. You can tell your Targaryen father that my dark night rid this kingdom of its dying sun, and at its end came a better dawn.” And Jon could not help himself, he leaned towards the princess angel still with his haughty smirk and traced a finger from her hairline down to her delicate chin, leaving a line of soot from the dirt under his fingernails. The slight flutter in her broad wings did not escape his notice. “Go now, little Silver, and deliver your message of peace. And know that you will meet me again the next time you return to the mortal realm.”

Daenerys leans away from his hand, her wings expanding to their full width, each longer than she is. Her scowl reflects the irritation in her eyes, her tone matching her anger. “Do not belittle me, demon. I only see you in the realm below my home, and your own home even lower than this. Your name may be Snow, your family’s Stark, but your intentions are the exact contrast of it. Jon Snow, you only come out to play, and your games often involve blood and death. I shall hope this be the last game you play, the last war the world wages. Sisters have lost enough brothers, mothers their sons, children their fathers.” And with finality, she lifts to the skies, her great wings gusting wind against the ground and making his black curls blow on his head, his pointed tail whipping about behind him.

“Oh, little Silver,” he calls as her form gradually fades, “When I play my game, it is you who always comes to end it. So tell me why would I ever stop?”

**Author's Note:**

> this signifies the first ever work i've published in ao3!
> 
> honestly, this piece has already been sitting in my laptop for /months/ along with a lotta other fics. i'm mostly a reserved fangirl, so most of my contents are private lmao. but recently, i decided that i could use some criticism, i've been weirdly insecure bout my writing style these past few months, so here we are now!
> 
> leave any response! interactions are always welcome :)


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